Better Off Dead

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS JUST AFTER FOUR that afternoon when Chad arrived at his office. He’d spent the afternoon testing the DARPA’s latest widget. He’d already had the Defense Department’s Advanced Research Agency’s gadget for over three months, but Danson had insisted on a six month test in all types of weather conditions and varying terrain. It had a few kinks, but, so far nothing major.

The device was impressive. The damn thing would revolutionize surveillance. He’d been sitting in the blinding sun, wearing shades, and on an uplink to the DoD satellite when Devon and Shelby had arrived. He had been tracking movements of large groups of men coming over the border of Pakistan into Afghanistan.

As soon as Devon and Shelby had left, he’d driven to a pay phone and notified Danson. Chad couldn’t resist asking about the leak. Danson hadn’t found out who in the DoD was leaking top secret information, but he assured Chad that his best agent was zeroing in on a promising lead.

“Anything important going on?” Chad asked his assistant as he walked into his office.

“I would have called you on your cell,” Ane replied without taking her eyes off the computer screen.

Ane Sephuhu was a beefy woman who could trace her ancestors back to King Kamehameha. The Nippon Bank had laid off Ane, a widow on the dark side of fifty, after nearly thirty years of service. She hadn’t been able to find another job because of her age and her weight. Chad had interviewed her and had been impressed. For the last five years, she’d handled the work of three people.

“You need to take a look at the invoice I’m sending Fidelity Insurance for the Townsend case.”

Chad reluctantly took the papers from Ane’s extended hand. He’d spent a full week in Turks and Caicos, where he’d discovered Robert Townsend IV’s death hadn’t been a simple drowning. Townsend’s own bang stick, a weapon divers used to kill an attacking shark, had punctured his air hose. Why Townsend hadn’t waded to shore was a mystery, but Chad had a theory.

After interviewing the wife and the stud who was captain of Townsend’s yacht, Chad had the distinct impression the two of them had iced the old guy. Chad had spent extra days trying to prove it. There was no forensic evidence, but the angle at which the bang gun had hit was a bit odd. He’d sent Townsend’s dive gear to the FBI for trajectory analysis. He’d also suggested the insurance company put a tail on the sexpot the old dude had married to see if she was having an affair with the ship’s captain.

He signed the invoice and wished he could have solved the case. Aw, hell, that’s pure ego talking. He’d solved numerous cases, but no one could solve all of them. Still, he hated to see anyone get away with murder.

“Don’t worry,” Ane said. “The case will be solved.”

“I doubt it. Even if the FBI proves Townsend couldn’t have accidentally fired his bang stick, there’s nothing to link his wife to the crime. She has a perfect alibi. The captain says she was on the yacht all afternoon and the two crew members confirm it.”

Chad went over to his desk, booted up his computer and scrolled through his e-mail. Nothing interesting.

“You might want to check on Eddie,” Ane told him. “I heard him screaming something about not renting linens.”

Chad shook his head. Lori had really dropped the ball with this one. Devon had four days to pull this together. Not much time, considering most weddings were planned a year in advance.

He remembered Devon saying Bite me. Even in a crisis, she had a sense of humor. He would have bitten her—not a mean bite but a playful nip—anywhere on that sexy bod.

He tried not to think about her too often, but he had a helluva time getting one image out of his stupid gourd. Devon naked and on her back, her hair fanned across his pillow, a happy smile on her face for a change instead of her shuttered, distant expression.

He wouldn’t force himself on her. After his talk with Keke last night, he was backing off. Let her come to him when she was ready. Hell might freeze over first, but there you go.

“Pono!” Careful! Ane’s dark eyes flashed in her lined face. “Pele will disappear on Eddie.”

According to ancient lore, Pele was the volcano goddess. An assortment of other lesser gods and the menehune, elves who loved to play tricks on people, were included in the island myths.

“What are you talking about?”

Ane smiled knowingly. “Devon. She’s Pele for the new millennium.”

“Lolo!” Crazy.

The island had more myths and goddamned superstitions than any place on earth. One of the most prevalent was the story of Pele’s ghost appearing along the side of the road in the form of a beautiful young woman with a dog, needing help. It was considered bad luck not to help her, but no matter what you did, she disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared.

Ane was into island lore in a major way. She had what Hawaiians called “the eye,” a sixth sense about things. In the time she’d worked for him, Chad had been amazed at how often she had been right.

“Why do you think Devon needs help?”

“Watch her. Da woman’s on guard.”

Chad had been watching—big time. Well, hell, he was just a guy. He might not have had his eyes on the right body parts.

He couldn’t imagine how Ane had picked up on all this the first day Devon was on the job, but he knew better than to argue. From his sisters, he’d learned women are far more intuitive than men. In this case, he’d also felt something was strange about Devon.

Chad walked across the courtyard toward the open door of Aloha Weddings. The large office wasn’t a typical cube farm. There were no cubicles at all. There was a fancy reception area off to the side where albums of wedding invitations, brochures about the boats, and photographs of floral arrangements could be inspected by clients. Since most of Eddie’s wedding business came from the Internet, this area didn’t have to be too large.

Behind the reception area was a work station with a high speed copy machine. Several potted palms with ferns at their bases screened the work station from the reception area.

Three desks were in the main section. A large one stood off to the side, loaded with high-tech computer equipment. From here, Eddie’s oldest son updated the Web site after his high school classes were over.

On the opposite side of the room, the wedding coordinator’s station had a large photograph of a sunset wedding on one of Eddie’s boats. In the background, outlined against a golden sky, Diamond Head thrust out like the prow of a battleship. It was the first photo on the Web site, and no doubt had sold dozens of weddings for Eddie.

Shelby’s smaller desk was in the center of the room. It never had anything on it except for a photograph of her tabby cat in a bamboo frame.

In the back corner of the large room was Eddie’s desk. The louvered corner windows gave him an exceptional view of Ala Wei harbor and let in the cooling trades. Next to this area was a louvered door. It opened onto a walkway that led to two different streets, depending which way you turned.

Chad walked through the front door. Devon quickly looked up. For an instant something flickered in her eyes. With what might have been a suggestion of a smile, she went back to her computer. He couldn’t interpret her shuttered expression.

He noticed Devon had moved her work station. Before, the side of her station had been to the door. Now she faced the door. Why?

Beside her desk lay a golden retriever with a mullet. There weren’t many goldens in the islands—it was too hot for dogs with so much fur. Those that lived here usually had a mullet clip: their bodies and legs were sheared, leaving their ears and tails fluffy.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he called to the dog.

“Zachary,” Devon said without looking up. “Zach for short.”

Chad squatted down. “Good boy, Zach.”

The dog didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaped up, mullet-like tail wagging and romped up to Chad. He petted the retriever and scratched his chest, a sure hit with dogs.

“Yo brah.” Eddie’s voice boomed across the office. Brah. Pidgin for brother. Eddie spoke pidgin, the local’s language, a melding of Hawaiian, Creole and English. Eddie rarely used it in a business environment. The reversion to pidgin and the deep patches of dampness on his Hawaiian shirt told Chad that Eddie was upset big time.

Chad left Zach and walked back to his friend’s desk. “Hie aha?” What’s happening?

Eddie lowered his voice, “I’m in deep shit.” His voice picked up volume as he continued. “Lori had total brain fade. The wedding at your place. She didn’t order tables, flowers, half of what she should have. All the good rentals are taken. Rose petals. Forget it.”

“Hold on. You must have loyal vendors who’ll help out—”

“The good stuff is spoken for. This close to Sunday, they’ve been paid in full. They can’t fail to deliver now.”

“There must be something—”

“No. I’m finished. It’ll take years to repair my reputation. This is Inoye’s niece, for Christ’s sake. Everybody who’s anybody will be at this wedding.”

Daniel Inoye was Hawaii’s revered senator who had lost his arm fighting in the Second World War. He was a very powerful, respected man with lots of influential friends. It would deal a blow to Eddie’s business that would be hard to recover from. Honolulu wasn’t that big when you took away the tourists. In the tight-knit community, word would spread quickly.

Eddie stood up. “Let’s get outta here. I need something to eat. Didn’t get lunch trying to sort out this crap. Malae’s still in Maui. I’m not getting dinner tonight.”

An idea came to Chad. “Let’s take Devon with us and sort out this mess.”

Eddie looked skeptical. “We’ve tried, but maybe you’ll come up with something. You always were the smart one.”

If there was one thing that ever came between them, it was Eddie’s insecurity about his lack of education. He was ill-at-ease around people who had gone to college. Since the embezzlement had been discovered, Eddie had become even more sensitive. Chad suspected his friend was taking a hit financially, but he would be insulted if Chad offered to loan him money.

“Three heads are better than one,” Chad replied. They walked over to Devon who was still concentrating on her computer screen. “Got a minute?”

She raised those compelling eyes from her computer screen. “Not really.”

“We’re going to get something to eat and discuss the problems with the wedding. Maybe we can think of something.”

“We’ve already—”

Chad cut off her protest. “Bring all your notes.”

As they left the building and walked the two short blocks to The Pink Gecko, Chad watched Devon out of the corner of his eye. He did his best not to notice the soft swell of her breasts just visible at the top of the scoop-neck red sundress or the provocative sway of her slim, graceful body. She looked straight ahead and listened while Chad ran his mouth to relieve the tension.

Her eyes shifted slowly, seemingly casually, taking in each person’s face as they passed. His curiosity as well as his interest was aroused. He put on his shades so she couldn’t see him watching her. By the time they’d reached the harbor, he’d caught her checking over her shoulder twice. What was going on here?

At the harbor side café Chad held the door for her, saying, “They have the best hulihuli chicken around. It’s slow-roast on spit over wood.”

When the hostess led them to a table, Chad didn’t pull out a chair for Devon until she put her hand on one. He slid out a seat, and she slipped into it. She’d selected a seat with its back against the view windows overlooking the harbor and the boats, but from this position, Devon could watch everyone coming into the café.

“What’s saimin?” Devon asked. “I’ve seen it on a lot of menus. Even McDonald’s.”

I’ll be jiggered, he thought. Devon didn’t seem like the McDonald’s type. But this woman was something else.

“It’s an island staple. Noodles. Try ’em.”

Eddie was starving so they quickly ordered. Devon seemed adventurous enough and took his suggestion to have the hulihuli chicken and saimin even though she’d never tried, either. An interesting person, he decided.

Now that he knew what to look for, Chad couldn’t help noticing Devon checking out customers coming through the door. She wasn’t blatant about it. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Chad did. His Delta Force training had taught him to do the same thing.

Watch your back.

The trick was to effectively use your peripheral vision, something most people didn’t do. It was necessary to train yourself not to focus on a certain object. Keep your field of vision wide-open, always aware of what was off to the side. To do this took special training. Most people’s vision was snared by a single object and held for a number of seconds or longer. Chad had learned to use his peripheral vision during training for covert operations.

The only way to become an expert at this was practice. Devon was so good that he decided she must have been doing this for some time. Why?

“Okay, so outline the main problem,” Chad told them. “Then we think outside the box.”

“Main problems,” Eddie corrected with a heartfelt sigh. “Big problems.”

“We can’t get the furniture out of your house and onto a van that will keep it for four days without unloading it,” Devon said.

“The two companies available are midnight movers,” Eddie added. “They’ll wreck your stuff big time or they’ll steal something.”

Chad nodded, thinking there were only a few reputable movers on Oahu. Most of the locals moved themselves. Chad needed to get what amounted to a house full of furniture out of his living room and into storage for just a few days. Last time, they’d arranged to have it packed into a long van and stored in the moving company’s yard until it was time to return the furniture.

The waiter delivered two Primo beers and a glass of Pinot Grigio for Devon. Chad raised his glass, and they lifted theirs. As they clicked, Devon’s eyes shifted to watch the couple coming through the door.

He was sitting close enough to her to get a whiff of the citrus cologne she used. It was hard to fight the thrill of anticipation he felt every time he was around her. Be a hyena, he reminded himself. Be a friend first.

“Here’s to thinking outside the box,” Chad said. “Do you have any close friends at the docks?” he asked, an idea hitting him.

“Sure. I’ve been running my boats around here for—what?—almost fifteen years. I know everybody.”

“Is there someone who’ll let us borrow a cargo container?”

Eddie gazed at him blankly for a second before his dark eyes widened. He slapped the table with the palm of his hand. “Akamai ’oe!” You’re so smart! “Damn! Now I know why you went to Stanford and I didn’t. Of course, I know several guys who’ll lend me a container for a few days.”

“You went to Stanford?” Devon asked.

“That’s right. Where did you go to school?”

“UCLA.” She took a sip of her drink. Her sensual lips were now glazed with the wine. A quick dart of her tongue brushed them clean in a way Chad found extraordinarily erotic.

“What about the shipping container?” she asked. “How are we going to move it around?”

“We’ll have to rent a container truck,” Chad replied. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Ninety percent of the goods that come into Hawaii arrive on ships. Most of it in containers.”

“Some folks go to the dock and get their stuff loaded onto their own trucks,” Eddie told her. “Others, especially places on the North shore, have the container delivered.”

Devon looked impressed, but her eyes drifted to the entrance. Now and then her gaze would casually scan the café.

“One problem solved.” Chad liked the relieved expression on Eddie’s face as he said this. “Next we have the rentals. The good stuff is already taken.”

“We tried all the hotels to see if we could arrange something,” Eddie said. “Either they need their tables and chairs or they don’t have enough that matched.”

“I have a thought,” Devon said in a deceptively soft voice as if she didn’t quite trust her idea. “Chairs for a wedding of this caliber aren’t the usual nice white folding chairs. They have fancy slipcovers over them. Several rental companies have slipcovers, but they don’t all match. I was thinking of making our own. If—”

“Not enough time,” interrupted Eddie.

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